


thrill me chill me fulfill me (creature of the night!)

by buckgaybarnes



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Marathon Sex, Other, Questionable Science and Even More Questionable Use of PPDC Funds, Tentacles, Xenophilia, can you believe there's not a character tag for 'non-sentient tentacle monster', hermann's just here for the ride (and newt), newt's raging tentacle kink, of the consensual variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/pseuds/buckgaybarnes
Summary: There are strange noises coming from the lab in the middle of the night. Hermann goes to investigate and learns something new about his colleague. Everyone benefits in the end.





	thrill me chill me fulfill me (creature of the night!)

**Author's Note:**

> i had this posted anonymously for so long but u know what? who cares. newt geiszler has a tentacle kink and maybe i have a kink for that kink

There are loud noises coming from the lab.

Typically, this is nothing out of the ordinary. There are almost _constantly_ loud noises coming from the lab, and Hermann is often the source of them himself: Newton playing loud music, Hermann yelling at Newton for playing loud music, Hermann yelling at Newton in general and Newton yelling back, Newton throwing bits of kaiju around with sickening splats, the like.

There are two reasons _these_ noises could be considered out of the ordinary, however. The first reason: it is three in the morning, and Hermann knows for a fact Newton retired to his quarters some four hours ago, so the lab should—conceivably—be empty. The halls of the Shatterdome are completely empty as well, which Hermann’s insomniac stroll (that brought the noises to his knowledge in the first place) can confirm. There should not be anyone around to make these noises. The noises are, therefore, an anomaly.

The second reason: they’re _moans_.

The closer Hermann gets to the heavy lab doors, the more distinct they become, and he realizes—with an icy dread, that spreads quickly in the pit of his stomach—that they’re moans in a pitch that is distinctly Newton’s.

Hermann’s mind races with possibilities. Newton has attempted something foolish and ill-advised and mortally wounded himself in the process; some kaiju viscera exploded in Newton’s face and he’s been permanently blinded; Newton tried to reach high up on a shelf and knocked something heavy on himself and is pinned to the floor; delirious with sleep deprivation, Newton spilled chemicals onto his skin and burned himself beyond recognition; Newton is bleeding out, Newton is paralyzed, Newton is in trouble, Newton needs _help_.

Hermann bursts through the door, half-out of his mind with terror, and he’s only just begun to form Newton’s name when it dies spectacularly on his tongue at the sight in front of him. Newton is not bleeding, or paralyzed, or dying. Newton is—

“Newton?” he squeaks.

Newton is spread out on the floor of the lab. There are several long, glowing, vividly blue tentacles wrapped around his body, and for a crazed moment Hermann thinks _oh God, they’re strangling him_ , and then he realizes what the actual sources of Newton’s moans are. Newton is completely naked, and there are three tentacles vigorously pumping in and out of Newton’s ass, and another tentacle vigorously jerking Newton off, and two more tentacles vigorously pumping in and out of Newton’s mouth. The two in Newton’s mouth retreat when Newton locks eyes with him, and he gasps “Hermann?!” just as the tentacle around his cock jerks him particularly hard and he comes _violently_ , ejaculate nearly hitting his chin.

Hermann is aware, distantly, that his eyes are bulging and his mouth is hanging open. He’s aware, a lot less distantly, that the sight of Newton in the throes of pleasure and the combination of Newton calling out his name while climaxing are more than a little arousing, and he’s half-hard in his loose pyjama bottoms. “What,” he splutters, as the tentacles in Newton’s ass don’t falter in their pace and the tentacle around Newton’s cock squeezes it gently as it softens. “ _What_?”

“I can explain,” Newton moans, angling his hips up as a fourth tentacle, thicker than the others, slips up from _God knows where_ and joins the three in fucking him, “I—oh, fuck, _harder_ —I can really explain, Hermann, this isn’t—” One of the tentacles that he’d been sucking on—dripping with Newton’s own saliva and something stranger, bluer—drapes itself across Newton’s chest and begins rubbing his nipples lazily, and Newton shakes and writhes. “Fuck—it’s—I’m—I bio-engineered myself,” he pants, “a—it’s basically a dildo, okay, from—from kaiju tissue I cloned. It sort of—” he’s getting hard again, “—reacts to body stimuli. Oh, fuck, fuck—” The tentacle around Newton’s cock, slick with his come, has resumed jerking him off again.

“You bio-engineered—!” Hermann can feel his face burning. “They sell _fake_ ones, Newton! Through _websites_! You didn’t have to go and bloody—!” He’d be a lot more convincing in his anger if he could tear his eyes away from Newton’s leaking cock, the way his legs are splayed obscenely, the _tentacles_ stretching him open wider, wider. With a wave of shame and no small amount of distress, Hermann wishes, desperately, to touch himself, and even more desperately to be the one making his lab partner shake and writhe like that.

“This way’s more fun, though,” Newton points out, absurdly casual. “Also, I was bored.” The tentacle working his cock _twists_ as the thick tentacle presses in particularly deep, deep enough to hit his prostate, and Newton cries “ _Fuck_!” and his hips jerk erratically and he comes _again_ , white splattering across the explosion of colors on his chest, the electric blue of the tentacles.

Hermann feels lightheaded, and leans heavily on his cane. His cock aches. “You could at least wait for me to leave the room!”

“Yeah, well,” Newton says, between pants and whimpers, “no one’s been forcing you to watch. The door’s right there, dude.” The tentacle unwinds from Newton’s cock and prods at his mouth instead, and Newton eagerly parts his lips and licks his own come off of it, moaning softly.

Newton is right. The door is right there. Hermann can just walk back to his room, furtively wank off, go to bed, and greet Newton the next morning like none of this ever happened. Their relationship would remain largely unchanged, other than the fact that Hermann would now carry the knowledge deep within himself that his lab partner has some sort of— _tentacle fetish_ and has after-hours marathon sex in the lab with organic sex toys, and the knowledge that Hermann is aroused by his lab partner’s after-hours marathon sex in the lab with organic sex toys even _deeper_ within himself. The door is right there. Hermann can just walk back to his room.

“Unless,” Newton says suddenly, coy and challenging, and the tentacles are no longer fucking him but caressing his body gently, teasing softly at his entrance, “you don’t _want_ to leave?” He locks eyes with Hermann once more and laves at the tentacle still at his mouth, lips slick with saliva and come and the strange blue the tentacles exude. It’s filthy. _He’s_ filthy. The door is right there. Newton licks a long, languid stripe up the tentacle and then laps at the tip, and Hermann lets his cane fall as he drops to his knees.

He’s not sure where to begin to touch Newton, or how to begin to touch him without also having to touch one of the tentacles, but Newton’s hands are free so he fists the front of Hermann’s pyjama shirt and hauls him down for a kiss. Hermann has often imagined kissing Newton, but he’s never envisioned it like this. He's also never envisioned it— _tingling_ so much. He pulls away with a frown, and Newton huffs. Hermann brings a few fingers up to feel his lips. “Why does it—?”

“The blue,” Newton says, tugging Hermann back towards him impatiently. “I made it from some hormone I was fucking around with in my samples. It’s totally harmless, man, don’t worry,” he adds quickly, likely seeing the panic rising on Hermann’s face. “I only meant for it to be, like, a lube, but it feels _awesome_. I think it’s an aphrodisiac or something.” He smiles, slowly and dreamily. “I’ve come, like, five times.”

“Five times?!” How long has Newton been _going_ at this?

“Yeah,” Newton sighs, still dreamily. “Now take that _shirt_ off, come on.”

A tentacle slips its way between their chests and brushes at the buttons of Hermann’s pyjama shirt, and he bats it away with a small shudder of disgust. “I can do that myself, thank you,” he sniffs, glaring at it, and carefully begins unbuttoning his shirt from the top. Newton watches him, licking his lips at each new expanse of too-pale skin.

“ _Yeah_ ,” he breathes, far too orgasmic for a little strip-tease, and Hermann realizes that the tentacles have continued slowly thrusting into him. Newton can, evidently, not go a single minute without something in his ass. Hermann feels a surge of jealousy—they’ve had their turn, and it’s his turn now.

They’ve had more than their turn. Five times that night, Newton has been fucked so hard he’s reached climax. The image of Newton stripping and spreading his legs for some monster of his own creation, putting himself completely at its mercy, is _frighteningly_ erotic. “How long have you been laying here,” Hermann says, “letting those _things_ have their way with you?”

“An hour,” Newton moans, as one of the tentacles begins to pick up its pace. Not as intense as before, but still fast, steady, even. Newton’s eyes flutter shut. An _hour_. Newton has been having sex for an _hour_ and shows no signs of stopping any time soon.

“You didn’t even care about being caught, did you?” Newton shakes his head, but whether he’s affirming Hermann’s thoughts or denying them Hermann’s not sure. A fifth tentacle brushes at his entrance, rubbing insistently at his perineum with its bumpy ridges, and Newton keens. Hermann’s hands are shaking as he carefully slips off his pyjama bottoms and briefs. “I bet you _wanted_ to be caught,” Hermann continues, and drags a hand down Newton’s chest. It’s tacky with both fresh come and drying come, more of the thick blue. It tingles pleasantly against his skin, too; he can’t imagine how it must feel up inside Newton.

“Uh-huh.” Newton nods furiously.

“Were you hoping it was me? That I’d be the one to catch you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Newton moans, as the fifth tentacle pushes up into him too without warning. “Yes, I _was_ —”

Hermann cannot bring himself to care if Newton is lying or not. His thoughts are too clouded by lust, by the desire to claim Newton for himself.  “Of course you were,” he growls, and wrenches Newton’s legs apart further, “you little—er—trollop.” Newton’s hole is already stretched so open, so wide, that Hermann thrusts a finger into him with no problem. The tentacles—thick and slippery and bumpy—continue pumping into Newton around it.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Newton is nearly sobbing, “holy _shit_ , oh— _fuck_ me—”

Newton’s ass is slick enough already that Hermann will not require a search for lube. He withdraws his finger, taps gently at the tentacles still there. “That is quite enough,” he commands. “I can take it from here.” Hermann would feel somewhat foolish about addressing a non-sentient lump of tissue that Newton designed for the explicit purpose of pleasuring himself if it didn’t appear to respond to Hermann’s voice. The tentacles pull away slowly, creeping back up to wrap themselves lovingly around Newton’s body instead. Two begin to play at Newton’s nipples; one is smoothing back his hair, almost sweetly; one wraps itself around his cock again. Newton is making soft and needy little sounds, watching Hermann through heavy eyelids.

Hermann’s leg twinges with pain as he kneels in front of Newton and he knows it’ll be hell to walk on tomorrow, but—quite frankly—he has never been this aroused in his life and cannot bring himself to care. He bends down and kisses Newton as he pushes into him. Newton is _loose_ , as slick as he expected, and warm, so wonderfully warm, and he has to grit his teeth and screw his eyes shut to keep himself from coming right there. The blue—the lube, as Newton had called it, tingles pleasantly around his cock, too. “Oh, _Newton_ ,” he groans, digging his nails into Newton’s thighs.

“Are you gonna,” Newton pants, head falling back as the tentacle jerks him off, “are you gonna fuck me or just lie there?”

Hermann has never backed down from a challenge in his life, and certainly not one issued by Newton Geiszler. He braces his arms on either side of Newton’s head, palms flat against the chilled metal of the lab floor, and fucks Newton with all he’s got. Hermann gets so lost in sensations—the heat of Newton’s body, how _responsive_ Newton is to every touch, Newton’s keening whines—that he’s almost surprised when his hips stutter and his orgasm is wrenched from him with a deep groan. Newton clenches down hard around him and the tentacle tugs him to release, too, and he curses and shakes through it.

Six times, then. And then the tentacle starts stroking Newton’s cock again, and Newton begins to stiffen once more, and he gazes up at Hermann with pleasure-drunk eyes. “See what I mean,” he slurs, “about it being an—” The tentacle covered in Newton’s come seizes the chance to push into Newton’s mouth, and the rest of Newton’s sentence is cut off in a deep, muffled moan as he sucks on it.

Hermann can’t help but feel a little let down. He’d been hoping to kiss Newton again, but Newton appears quite preoccupied. Leave him to his fun, then. Hermann begins to pull out when he realizes that he is, impossibly, still hard; he _does_ see what Newton means, now. Newton—now happily sucking on two tentacles—waggles his eyebrows at Hermann, wiggles his hips. Hermann accepts the invitation eagerly.

Hermann fucks Newton through another orgasm, and then another, and his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated. His own come spills out of each time he pushes back into Newton with the most _obscene_ , wet noises, and it only fuels his lust and drives him faster, harder. Sweat is dripping down his brow and he’s nearing orgasm number four when two tentacles slip into Newton alongside Hermann’s cock, prodding gently. He almost snaps at them to stop, but Newton moans so filthily around the tentacles he’s sucking on that Hermann relents. “Oh, go on,” he sighs, and they start pounding into Newton with a brutal pace that Hermann can scarcely keep up with.

Newton’s shut his eyes and his entire body is trembling; the only sounds he’s making now—besides the messy suckling—are barely-audible high-pitched whines. Hermann’s curious as to how long they can keep this up before he or Newton or both of them simply collapse from exhaustion. Newton said the tentacles react to body stimuli (and Hermann refuses to acknowledge how impressive that bit of science must be, for propriety’s sake, or wonder how long it took Newton to achieve something like this). Surely they’d be able to sense when they’ve had enough?

A tentacle brushes Hermann’s cheek. “No,” he scolds, but it does nothing more than stroke it gently and he can’t help but lean into the touch. It tickles. Another tentacle creeps up his chest, flicks his right nipple, then his left, and it sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. Still another curls around his ass, dances over his entrance, teasing as it had done to Newton— “ _Oh_ ,” Hermann breathes as it presses in _so_ lightly and he comes in Newton once more.

Newton cracks an eye open and somehow manages to look smug despite his mouthful of squirming blue. Hermann colors in embarrassment. “That’s enough,” he says sharply, and the tentacle at his cheek gives him a nice little pat farewell before all three drift away from him. He’s not quite sure what to do about Newton—sweaty, sticky, come-covered, fucked-out, and maddeningly beautiful Newton. Newton’s become mildly delirious with pleasure, and the tentacles don’t stop pounding into him and making him writhe wildly even when Hermann _finally_ pulls out. “Enough,” he repeats, tapping at one of them, and—with another loud, obscenely wet noise—every tentacle retreats from Newton and slips out of sight. Under Newton’s desk, it seems. Hermann wrinkles his nose at the obvious health hazard. He knows for a fact Newton does not clean under there regularly.

There’s drool and more of the thick blue on Newton’s chin, and—Hermann realizes with a heady jolt of excitement that he can’t help—a _great deal_ of Hermann’s come spilling out from between his legs. Newton whimpers at the sudden lack of stimuli and blinks blearily up at Hermann. He’s a complete wreck. “Newton,” Hermann declares, with as much irritation as he can muster for someone he wants nothing more than to kiss, “I’ll thank you to keep this confined to your quarters from now on. Our lab is no place for—” His voice falters, and he casts a glance under Newton’s desk, where a few tentacles are lolling about in the shadows. “—such proclivities.”

Newton looks mildly sheepish. “Okay,” he says.

Hermann clears his throat. “I would not object, however,” he continues, “if you were to—invite me, from time to time. More frequently than that, even.”

Newton’s answering smile is blinding.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm very excited to fill the ao3 newt and consentacles void. i've done my part so all of you have to follow suit. Bring Me Newt And Consentacles


End file.
